


Kiss Me Once...Kiss Me Twice...

by MovesLikeBucky



Series: Gift Fics 2019 [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Confessions, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, Fluff, I tried to make it soft y'all, M/M, No beta we fall like Crowley, Post-Scene: Church in London 1941 (Good Omens), Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:55:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21962461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MovesLikeBucky/pseuds/MovesLikeBucky
Summary: Aziraphale nodded and went back to staring out the front window, trying not to lose his lunch from Crowley’s ridiculous driving.Aziraphale had never done well with precipices, preferring to keep his feet planted firmly on the ground, thank you very much.  But he knew in his heart of hearts that they were both on a knife edge, on one side the way things had been and on the other the way things could be.  The only question was how brave could Aziraphale be?The air in the Bentley was charged with potential as they pulled up to the bookshop.  Be brave, Aziraphale told himself, he’s reaching out to fix things, just reach back.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Gift Fics 2019 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1581070
Comments: 41
Kudos: 175





	Kiss Me Once...Kiss Me Twice...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Phoenix_of_Athena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_of_Athena/gifts).



> First of my gift fics for my Discord buddies! (plus a couple of coworkers)!
> 
> The song for this one was ["It's Been A Long, Long Time" by Harry James (vocals by Kitty Kallen)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Chs2bmqzyUs) for the ever lovely Phoenix_of_Athena!

_Kiss me once, then kiss me twice, then kiss me once again_

_It's been a long, long time_

_Haven't felt like this my dear since I can't remember when_

_It's been a long, long time_

_\---_

Aziraphale fumbled with the handles on the bookbag for the entire drive back to his shop. He stole furtive glances at the demon beside him, who was skillfully navigating the rubble despite the darkness of the mandatory blackout and the ridiculous speed he was travelling.

Seventy-nine years without the demon in his life, and Aziraphale had felt the pain of every one of them. He’d carried it with him through these decades, the heavy sadness and regret of their last conversation. The knowledge that his feelings would not be reciprocated; that he was, as he always was, a means to an end. He should’ve hated Crowley for that, but it wasn’t possible.

Love makes fools of us all.

But now, his books were safe. _He_ was safe. Crowley had hot-footed his way over consecrated ground to save _him_. After everything the angel had said to him, Crowley had come back. And then he’d remembered the books. That had all been enough for Aziraphale to start to think Crowley might feel the same, but the wave of love that washed over the angel when Crowley had very softly and fondly offered him a lift home knocked the wind out of him entirely.

“What do you think?”

“Sorry,” Aziraphale said, shaking out of his stunned reverie, “what was that?”

Crowley rolled his eyes, “Have you heard _anything_ I’ve said in the last five minutes, Angel?”

Aziraphale opened his mouth and then closed it again. He’d been too lost in his own mind and hadn’t paid attention to a single word Crowley had said.

“I was asking,” Crowley said fondly, “What do you think? Of the Bentley, I mean.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Aziraphale stammered, suddenly very glad for the darkness to hide the heat he felt rising in his cheeks and the tips of his ears, “it’s a very lovely horseless carriage, my dear, but could you perhaps go a bit slower?”

Crowley just smirked and sped up, “Really, Angel, it’s called a _car_ it’s the 20th bloody century.”

Aziraphale nodded and went back to staring out the front window, trying not to lose his lunch from Crowley’s ridiculous driving.

Aziraphale had never done well with precipices, preferring to keep his feet planted firmly on the ground, thank you very much. But he knew in his heart of hearts that they were both on a knife edge, on one side the way things had been and on the other the way things _could_ be. The only question was how brave could Aziraphale be?

The air in the Bentley was charged with potential as they pulled up to the bookshop. _Be brave,_ Aziraphale told himself, _he’s reaching out to fix things, just reach back._

“Would you like to-“

“Guess I should be-“

They both started at the same time. Crowley gestured to Aziraphale to continue.

“I was just thinking, I have a very nice bottle of 1929 Chateau Petrus that I’ve been waiting to open,” Aziraphale said, wishing Crowley’s glasses were gone so he could read his friend’s face better, “Might be nice to finally share it with the right sort of company.”

He closed his eyes as he said it, fully expecting rejection, but opened them again when he heard a scoff.

“We’re calling me the right sort of company now, Angel?” Crowley said with a grin as he shut off the car.

“Well, to me, at least,” the angel said, relaxing slightly, “It has been a long, long time, after all.”

“Right, it has, hasn’t it?”

They made their way into the bookshop, sinking back into old habits as though no time had passed. Crowley tossed his hat onto the front counter, ignoring the hat rack completely, and slunk to the backroom to drape across the sofa there. Aziraphale procured the wine and two glasses and joined him. With a thought he started a record spinning on the gramophone. The angel had become very fond of this new style of music they were making across the pond. Swing, they called it. He liked the smooth and lazing quality of the trumpets and saxophones; he found it pleasant.

Their conversation wound on and on about nonsense, but Crowley was doing most of the talking. Aziraphale was still stuck on those eighty missed years; and Crowley was rather pointedly not talking about them. Aziraphale was curious. He shouldn’t be, but the wine was making everything pleasantly fuzzy and bolstering his confidence.

“And so now they have things that _measure earthquakes_ can you believe?” Crowley said, waving his wine glass in the air, miraculously not spilling a drop. He was grinning from ear to ear, thoroughly excited as always about the things these clever humans come up with.

 _I love him,_ Aziraphale thought, _I love this ridiculous demon._

“Where were you for the last eighty years?”

Aziraphale regretted the words almost as soon as he said them, but he wanted – no, _needed_ – to know. Crowley’s face fell, and there was the telltale tinge in the air of a celestial being sobering up. 

“It’s just,” the angel continued, seeing no way out but through, “I _did_ miss you; I hate how things happened back then. I don’t blame you if you don’t believe me. And, well, seeing you here now…” He chanced a glance towards the demon and found his face unreadable. Aziraphale sighed and stood from his armchair, moving to the sofa.

“My dear, you do know you don’t need those silly things around me,” Aziraphale said, slowly reaching for Crowley’s glasses, stopping just short, “May I?”

Crowley nodded almost imperceptibly and Aziraphale removed his glasses, folding them carefully and sitting them on the side table. The demon shifted, making space for Aziraphale on the sofa, but still not saying a word.

“Where was I?” Aziraphale took a deep breath and sobered himself up. It wouldn’t be fair to Crowley to have this conversation inebriated, and now that Aziraphale had started on this path, he’d have to see it through. “Seeing you here now, my dear, back in the shop again like you’d never even left, I just…well, I need to know-“

“Sleeping,” Crowley cut him off with a whisper.

“Sleeping?” Whatever Aziraphale had been expecting, it wasn’t that, “For eighty years?”

“Better part of it, yeah,” Crowley’s eyes landed everywhere except on Aziraphale’s face, “Wasn’t much point to being awake.”

“Why on earth not?” Aziraphale asked with a small chuckle, “Are your people in that short supply of temptations to work? I must confess I’ve never been much for sleeping myself, but I suppose if I were to get bored-“

“Because you weren't-” Crowley’s voice pitched a bit higher as he interrupted again, his hands were shaking. Aziraphale had never seen him so nervous before. 

Crowley closed his eyes and breathed, steadying himself, “Not much point in being awake and experiencing things when I didn’t have you to experience them with, is all.”

Crowley’s eyes finally landed on Aziraphale’s. Molten amber meeting deep blue. Crowley’s eyes had blown wide past the pupils, as tended to happen when he was overwhelmed. 

The same electric charge of potentiality hung in the air. Aziraphale was back on the precipice, back on the knife edge, on a chalk cliff over the sea. All he had to do was fall. But right now all he could do was sit in stunned silence.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said his name with reverence that felt like worship; with love seeping into the spaces between every line and curve as it was written.

There was no other choice to make; they’d both made the choice long ago. On a wall, in a garden, in a rainstorm.

“Oh, _Crowley,_ ” Aziraphale managed to breath out before they crashed into each other in the middle of the sofa, arms wrapping around each other - their faces stopping just a breath away.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said softly, his fingers tracing unrecognizable patterns in the curls at the nape of the angel’s neck, “Are you sure you want to do this? If we do this I- I won’t be able to go back, I’ll never be able to stop. If Heaven or Hell-”

“Bugger the lot of them,” Aziraphale interrupted, “It’s been too long, and I’ve missed you too much. Besides, what makes you think I’d ever _want_ to stop?”

Crowley’s eyes lit up and Aziraphale melted at the sight, closing the last breath of distance between them. Lips seeking out lips, a want that had been millennia in building. 

The first kiss was aching and desperate, fumbling and awkward, with too much teeth. They both laughed, delighted enough in finally reaching this point that it didn’t matter.

“Aziraphale, I-“ Crowley started before being cut off by the angel’s lips on his again.

“Later, my dear, the words can wait,” Aziraphale said, almost directly against the demon’s mouth, “kiss me again.”

Crowley didn’t need to be told twice. He pushed the angel back onto the sofa, bringing their lips together again, deepening the kiss this time.

“Do you,” Crowley asked him, punctuating words with kisses to the angel’s cheeks and along his jawline, “Have any idea how much I’ve missed you?”

Aziraphale sank his hands into Crowley’s copper hair. “I didn’t,” he admitted a bit breathlessly, “but I think I’m starting to get some idea.”

“I dreamed about you,” Crowley said as he fumbled with the angel’s bowtie, “all the time, too many dreams to count.”

“I watched for you,” Aziraphale gasped as Crowley won his battle with the bowtie, moving his ministrations to the angel’s neck and the hollow of his throat, “everywhere I went, hoping I’d see you. Hoping I’d get to apologize-”

“There’s no need to, Angel, we’re here now,” Crowley captured Aziraphale’s lips once more, this time with infinite tenderness before breaking off and gently running his thumb along the angel’s jaw, “No apologies.”

Aziraphale smiled back at him, watching the candlelight flicker in amber eyes, “No apologies.”

They kissed for a little while longer, slowing as daybreak started to peek through the gaps in the carboard window coverings. Crowley sighed and nestled into Aziraphale’s chest.

“Are you planning on sleeping?” The angel asked, pressing a kiss into the demon’s hair.

“Might do,” the demon snuggled even closer, arm possessively twined around the angel, “Pretty sure the dreams won’t be nearly as empty this time.”

“Well I won’t be going anywhere, darling,” Aziraphale smiled and smoothed Crowley’s hair back, “May you dream of whatever you like best.”

“Don’t need to,” Crowley slurred at him, already well on his way to being asleep, “You’re right here.”

Aziraphale felt a tear prickle at the corner of his eye at the vulnerability of this moment. He pressed a kiss to Crowley’s temple, resolving to let him sleep. They’d worry about the particulars later. Contingency plans, that sort of thing. For now, in this little bookshop in Soho, they had each other. And neither would let anyone take that away.

**Author's Note:**

> Come and scream with me on [Tumblr](https://moveslikebucky.tumblr.com) or in the [Ineffable Outliers Discord](https://discord.gg/xYuHWxz)!


End file.
